


Is it Usual?

by Mia_was_not_here



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Claire loves Jamie, F/M, Love, One Shot, Short One Shot, season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23470339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mia_was_not_here/pseuds/Mia_was_not_here
Summary: Claire can't stop herself from falling for Jamie. Takes place during the picnic scene in 1x08, one of the sweetest ClairexJamie moments.
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	Is it Usual?

**Author's Note:**

> Here is a pretty short one-shot for everyone! I couldn't get this idea out of my head, so I just decided to go with it. Some of the dialogue between Jamie and Claire is obviously from the famous picnic scene in season 1 episode 8. I would very much appreciate any feedback or constructive criticism, even though this is pretty short :) Thank you to anyone who reads, gives kudos, or comments. I appreciate you all.

To put things quite simply, I was scared. More than scared, even; petrified. 

Since that warm, windy day in Inverness that I had crossed the barriers of time and traveled through the standing stones, I had no idea what to expect. I don't think that even my wildest thoughts would have prepared me for what was waiting on the other side of those stones. Nothing could have prepared me for the large, red headed Scotsman sitting across from me on the Fraser colored plaid, damp with the mist of light rain. And even more, my husband of a tender two days. 

This is not what scared me. I am a practical woman; I knew the only way I was to legally stay out of Black Jack Randall’s grasp was to marry Jamie. What scares me is the fact that I may actually like the fact that I am betrothed to Jamie. My mind cannot help wandering guiltily back to Frank; What must he think happened to me? And what would he think if he could see the scene in front of me? My thoughts are broken by a large hand sweeping a damp curl from my eyes.

“Sassenach, can I ask ye a question?” He asked me in that thick Scottish burr I've grown quite fond of in the very recent days. The only burr that can make my knees wobble and stomach flutter.

“Of course you can.” I couldn't think of ever denying him anything now, whether I liked that information or not. 

“Well, I have a question tha- I dinna wish to imply that is... I dinna mean to imply that you have a vast knowledge of men, but you know more than I do in such matters.” He spills out, sounding more like a guilty confession than a question. I noticed with some semblance of amusement that his accent gets thicker when he is nervous, storing that information away someplace deep in my mind labeled Jamie. 

As amused as I am simply listening to this eighteenth century man droll on, natural born storyteller that he is, I decide I'm rather curious to hear his thoughts. “Out with it.” I reply to stop his nervous squirming. 

His face takes on an amused look, His eyes shining bright blue with an unanswered question and his perfect mouth twists up at one corner into a smirk. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, as if the answer he is seeking may solve some ancient prophecy. “Is it usual, what it is between us? When I touch you,” He says grabbing my cold hand stained with wet grass, wrapping it in his own warm one. “When you lie with me. Is it always so between a man and a woman?” He finishes with a gaze trained on my glass face, so intense that it makes my cheeks heat and my heart skip what seems like several beats. Before I am almost completely consumed by his blue eyes, as deep as the ocean itself, our hands draw together like magnets searching for their poles. They begin an exploration of their own accord, traveling up and down secret paths, across smooth skin that crackles with electricity. It is enough to make me almost forget his question altogether. 

Almost panting with unseen effort, I search for his eyes again. Finding them I try to remember the question he had asked me. “It’s often something like this.” I say softly into the wind, looking up just enough to see the slight fall of his face. I think it odd to feel a pang of regret at seeing that beautiful, square face fall. Before I can think, I am shaking my head. “But no. This isn't usual. It's different.” My hand now reaches for his, as if reaching for home. As soon as our hands connect for what seems like the hundredth time, I instantly feel it; that charged, alive feeling. It almost makes me want to pull my hand out of his, to deny its presence, but I know he feels it, too. It's the same feeling I felt when we kissed for the first time as husband and wife. I have denied it from the first moment, put a sort of wall up to stop myself from feeling it. But as I look into his eyes, it's as if a piece of the wall crumbles at once. I try to stop myself; I know that Frank is waiting for me in another life. But I can do nothing to stop it. I am powerless against those eyes that are locked onto mine, searching for what seems like my soul. And I am terrified that I do not care to stop them. I can feel myself slowly starting to let him find me, tearing away piece after piece of that wall I so carefully built around the very thing he wishes to find; my heart. And a part of me wants to let him find it, and hold it in his own forever. 

We sit like this for what seems like hours on the damp earth, clutching onto one another like life preservers. Sitting face to face, becoming familiar with each other's souls and hearts without words. Tucking a stray piece of soft, copper hair here, tugging on a stray black curl loosely flowing in the wind there. I can feel myself subconsciously moving closer and closer to the heat radiating from him, like a cat to a sun-spot, and try blaming it on the cold dampness making its way into my bones. For some reason, I do not try to move away. I cannot bring myself to shut Jamie out, even when the rational part of my brain tries to tell me I should. What strength I had left to try and fight his love, my love, is rapidly dissipating. The question Jamie had asked me earlier keeps repeating itself in my mind; Is it usual? Well, to be frank, I was quite honest when I answered no. It is not usual to travel 200 years into the past, leaving your husband behind, only to suddenly acquire a new one. Of course I could not tell Jamie that part. I didn't know if I would ever be able to tell him the truth, or even how I would tell him if I could. But if I was being honest to myself, I had also meant what I had said after that. That it wasn't usual between us. I have never felt such strong feelings for anyone before, not even Frank, as horrible as that might make me seem. I had spent so much time trying to carefully distance myself from Jamie, but something keeps drawing me back to him. Always drawing us together. Something had to have brought me here, calling out for me into thin air. Coaxing my spirit to those stones, grabbing me and pulling me here. Here to this time, to that battle between Highlander and Redcoat that I had become a part of unknowingly. To castle Leoch. To Jamie. 

Again, the question repeats itself in my mind. Is it usual?


End file.
